Free Me From My Demons
by Innocent Magic
Summary: The life and times of Victoire Weasley, the odd-one-out of the Weasley Clan. Going into her 5th year at Hogwarts, she must overcome her demons to free herself, with the help of best friend extraordinaire, Teddy Lupin, of course.


**A/N **If I were JK (God Bless), I would not be writing _fan _fiction of my OWN work hahaa :)

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****Free Me From My Demons**

I had always been a strange child – my parents would make jokes about it but I knew deep down they were truly disappointed I hadn't turned out perfect like they'd planned. I was the eldest of the new generation, (discounting Teddy of course), so naturally I was supposed to represent and set the standard. I guess I made it a hell of a lot easier on Louis and Dominique, on Fred and Lucy, James, Albus and Lily, on Rose and Hugo, on Hayley and on Anne-Marie (my many wonderful cousins).

Perhaps I should explain myself in more detail: my name is Victoire Weasley. I am the daughter of Bill Weasley, incredibly intelligent and kind-hearted, and of Fleur Delacour-Weasley, Triwizard Champion in her day and stunningly beautiful part Veela. If that wasn't enough I just had to be the niece of the Golden Trio (yes, all of them), of Ginny Potter, who used to be a major Quidditch star and every teenage boy's fantasy, of George Weasley, who owns only the _greatest _joke shop in the world _ever_with his wife, ex-Quidditch superstar along with Aunt Ginny, Aunt Alicia. See, I have a lot to live up to.

And I fail. Miserably. I'm not clever, nor do I have any redeeming qualities personality wise. My best and only friend is a year older than me and technically a relative, though I promised him he would always be my best friend first and my sort-of-cousin second (so that I wouldn't rat him out every time he did something bad). To top it all off I listen to 'the wrong sort of music' – like there is a specific 'right' and 'wrong' sort of music. Who makes this s*** up anyway? Okay, so I like hiding myself in my room listening to Slipknot and Hadouken. It's a load better than what those other prissy little girls have on their mPods. Rhianna? Chris Brown? If my music's depressing I'd hate to see how they'd describe theirs.

Now I wouldn't want you to get the impression that I'm one of those girls with loads of insecurities who can't help herself and thinks that once she gets more popular, prettier and thinner she'll be happy (**please note sarcasm**). I'm happy as I am right now, sitting in my room, wondering whether it's worth getting grounded for five minutes rocking out on my Fender (I saved up for yearsssss for that baby), wearing my over-sized hoodie and skinny jeans.

But the rest of my family have something to say about it. Okay, maybe not Uncle Harry, or Aunt Ginny. And maybe not Uncle Charlie, or Aunt Hermione. Or Aunt Alicia. They're all cool with it, though they still get a little uptight when I come home with an extra piercing, more colours in my hair or another tattoo tactfully placed somewhere discreet. I have one on my lower back, several small inked butterflies flying upwards. I have another on my left ankle, stars this time, one orange, one green and one pink. I also have my ears pierced in three places and my lip pierced. Mum and dad won't let my get anything else.

Tomorrow we go back to school, so tonight everyone is being dragged to Grandma and Grandpa Weasleys' house for another fun-filled 'Goodbye for 12 Weeks' party (**again, I should inform you of the use of sarcasm**).

That's something I feel I should clear up before we continue: as you may have noticed by now, I'm a very, _very_ sarcastic being.

Would you like to know what I look like so you can picture what I have to tell you in your minds? Right, well aside from the pierced ears and lip, I have a flawless face (never a spot thank god) and naturally strawberry blond hair (the nice shade, not the disgusting one). But I hate it. On my first day in first year no one really tried to talk to me because I was a plump little being obsessed with Quidditch and bees.

Over time I changed: I've lost quite a bit of weight and now, approaching my 16th birthday, I look reasonably normal size wise, though I'm still only 5 foot 3. I don't mind being short though – it's not like I want to wear heels. My hair is now all sorts of different colours. There's a bit of turquoise going on, a bit of green, some red, some purple, a smidgen of pink and a little bit of yellow. It does look really nice (my Veela coming through I suppose). And I have turquoise eyes. Literally. They're not just bright blue, they are turquoise. They're the only part of my natural appearance that I truly like. Sometimes I feel like I can see deep into people's souls with my eyes. It's quite entertaining to be honest.

Right, back to my riveting tale. I was all dressed up for the goodbye party, wearing a skirt for the first (and last) time in my life; it was part of an ensemble mum had chosen out for me, saying I should make an effort to fit in for once. That's all mum ever does – try her hardest to fit in with everyone else, like a little lost sheep. Sometimes I wonder how dad ever fell for her, and then I hear stories of how courageous and intelligent she was back 20 years ago. It makes you wonder.

"Tori!" someone says happily as I step out of Grandma's fireplace and shake myself like a shaggy little dog to rid myself of soot.

"Ted!" I sing back, "It's been too long."

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**A/N **I hope you all enjoyed the first installment of 'Free Me From My Demons'. The title might not make much sense right now, but I promise everything will become clearer as the story continues, if I ever get around to writing anymore loll. This is my first post, and was written almost a year ago today, so be kind, and if you want, you could always drop me a review (_smiles insanelyyyyyyyy sweetly, gives puppy-dog eyes - badly, and all the other cherry-on-the-chocolate-cake stuff that will guilt you into reviewing_). I don't even care if you tell me it's rubbish; I just want to know how people think I'm doing. Thank you, and good night :)


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